All Our Downfalls
by YoullFindMeInWonderland
Summary: Lana keeps having these dreams where she is about to be killed by these shadowy figures. But then one time, a girl shows up. She suddenly knows everything about her, like the fact that her name is Lydia. She goes to Beacon Hills to find answers, but finds that the people of Beacon Hills are not what they seem.
1. Chapter 1

Preface:

Lana stood, wind blowing her hair in all directions. She didn't dare to open her eyes, for fear of what might be lurking there. She knew of the dark and dangerous creatures, and all the possibilities.

When she finally opened her eyes, there were masses of swirling shadows rising from the ground, forming human shapes. They stood in a circle around her, and she spun wildly in hopes of breaking the circle and running. Despite her efforts, she wasn't getting out of that circle. The shadows began to drift toward her, with eerie grace, making no sound. She began to sob, squeezing her eyes shut. She heard a sound and her eyes flew open. In the distance, there stood a girl with strawberry blonde hair and green eyes. She began to run toward the circle, and the shadows stopped as she pushed through them to stand in front of the girl. The shadows slowly seeped back into the ground, as silently as they came. But none of this mattered to Lana. All she could think about was the girl in front of her.

"Lydia?" She said. She had no idea how she knew the girl's name. It seemed like someone whispered it into her brain, like there was no way she could have not known. The girl looked as scared by it as she was. Her green eyes flew wide and she took a stumbling step backwards.

"W-what's going on here?" Lana begged, crying again. "What's happening?"

The girl went still and her eyes unfocused. "Death." She answered and threw her head back and let out an ear-splitting scream. Lana screamed and fell to her knees, clutching her head in her hands as if she let go, her head would fall apart. When her hands came away, they were bloody.

Lana flung herself into a sitting position on her bed, haunted by the images her sleep had brought her. She knew where she had to go. She had to find the green-eyed girl and find out who she was. Although it scared her, she knew exactly where to find her. Beacon Hills.

Chapter one:

Lana stepped out of the car and stretched her legs. It had been a long ride, and she had finally reached Beacon Hills. She saw two boys walking down the street. One of them had a motorcycle helmet in his hand, and the other one was hauling a red duffel bag out of his Jeep. The dark-haired one sat down the motorcycle helmet on the seat of the Jeep and looked deep in serious conversation with the other. Maybe they knew where she could find this Lydia girl, whoever she was.

Lana locked her car and set off in that direction. When she got up close, they gave her a strange look. She ignored it and leaned against the Jeep. She saw the brown-haired boy wince the second she touched the car.

"Hey boys, do you know where I might find Lydia Martin?" The two boys looked at each other suspiciously.

"Why were you asking for me?" Lydia hissed angrily. Lana was astounded. Of course she knew who she was. Didn't she? She had to.

"You don't know who I am?" Lana asked, disappointed and a little angry. When she had played this out in her head, she would just walk up and Lydia would automatically know who she was and tell her everything she needed to know, and why she had shown up in her dreams, and how Lana already knew a lot about her. But now, in front of her, it seemed unlikely at best. Maybe her dream had been a mere coincidence, and now she was caught up in something she was never meant to be a part of.

"No I don't know who you are! Now tell me why you were asking about me!" Lydia yelled. "Are you one of them? What, did you come to kill me?" Lydia scoffed. Lana's eyes grew huge.

"What are you talking about?!" Lana said. Lydia threw a look back to the two boys who she now knew were named Stiles and Scott. They seemed to be there to protect Lydia. The boys shrugged innocently.

"How were we supposed to know? I'm not the crazy one with psychological power." Stiles said, crossing his arms. Lydia muttered something under her breath about always having to clean up their messes.

"I'll call Derek." Stiles sighed, pulling his phone out of his pocket. Scott gave him a look. "What? I should have him on speed dial by now," he said. He stepped into the room and I heard mutterings of something about assassins. _What have I walked myself into? _Lana thought.

Scott sat down in a chair across from the table. They were at his house. They had ushered Lana back there the second she uttered a word about having to find Lydia.

"What did she mean about me being here to kill her? Why would I want to kill her?" Lana asked him. He leaned forward, resting on his elbows. He seemed to really consider this question.

"It's been rough these past few weeks to say the least," Was all Scott said. When Lana's eyes grew huge, he continued. "There's a lot you don't know about, Lana."

"Wow. That was just vague enough to work. What do you mean there's a lot I don't know about?" Lana asked impatiently. Scott sighed and looked at her helplessly.

"Please just wait till Derek gets here." He said. She resisted the urge to ask him who Derek was and simply sat back in her chair. If you really looked, she thought, Scott had an uneven jaw line, but it didn't detract from his appearance. He had a tattoo on his right arm of two thick black bands. She wanted to ask him what they meant, but something made her think that if she asked another question he would explode.

Stiles reentered the room, shoving his phone in his pocket. He sat next to Scott and said Derek was on his way, and turned his focus toward Lana. Lana noticed he was fidgety, and couldn't sit still.

"So, if you aren't here to kill us in a very morbid fashion, why are you here?" Stiles asked her. She was surprised how long it had taken anyone to ask this question. She didn't know whether she should even answer, for the fact that everyone would think she was a head case if she told them why she was really there. She had never taken into consideration the fact that she sounded like a psychopath, but she was telling the truth. That had to count for something, right? She hoped so.

"If I told you, you'd think I was crazy." She said doubtfully, grabbing at her locket that hung on a chain around her throat. Stiles laughed.

"Unlikely. I spent a few weeks in a mental asylum." Stiles retorted. Lana looked terrified, which made him laugh harder. "No, it not what you think. I was possessed by an ancient evil spirit, known formally as a nogitsune." He winked. This time, Scott laughed too.

"What is a nogitsune?" Lana asked. But no one seemed willing to answer that question. A man she assumed was Derek walked in at that moment with Lydia at his side. He sat down next to Lana and Lydia hovered just over his shoulder.

"So, are you going to tell me why you are here?" Derek asked impatiently, eyebrows raised. Everyone looked at Lana expectantly, all wanting to know the answer to the question. So Lana answered.

"For a while now, I've had these dreams. These shadowy figures would come up out of the ground and circle around me. They terrified me. Slowly, the circle would close around me, and I would wake up when they touched me. But two nights ago, it all changed. She showed up," Lana pointed to Lydia, "and she made the shadowy figures go away. Then I looked at her, and I just knew. I knew who she was I knew how to find her and I knew things about her that would be impossible to know from just looking at someone. I knew I had to find her and get answers. Then I asked her what was going on, and she said death, and screamed. It was horrible screaming, unlike anything I have ever heard before. It made my ears bleed, it was so loud. Then I woke up."

Everyone was dumbfounded. All eyes flicked to Lydia, and she stared straight at me with a glare. _If looks could kill_, Lana thought.

"Lyd, it kind of sounds like she might be a ban-" Derek started, but Lydia cut him off with an acid glare.

"She's not. She just made all of that up. She's a liar." Lydia growled. She walked up to me and ceased my arm with an iron grip, and wrenched me out of my seat. "Please excuse us, ladies and gents." She bit.

She dragged me out on the front porch. When we got there, she let go of my arm and looked at me apologetically. "I do know who you are. I lied before." She said. I looked at her like she was insane, and I was beginning to think she really was.

"Why?! You made a complete fool out of me back there!" Lana said, her mind blown at how insane all of this was and how convincing Lydia had been.

"Oh, please. What, did you think? You and Scott were going to be besties, and Stiles would take you to prom?" Lydia rolled her eyes, a tinge of jealous anger in her voice. "Just so you know, I might have just saved your life. You're a banshee. And right now, there is a dead pool out for the death of every supernatural creature within miles of here. As of right now, your name is not on that list. Would you like it to be?" She was so angry. Why was she so against Lana?

"I'm not a banshee." Lana stated plainly. She had heard stories of banshees and what they were capable of. She knew she wasn't one.

"Do you even know what a banshee is?" Lydia spit harshly.

"Of course I do. I'm not an idiot. I know what a banshee is, and I know that your one. And I'm guessing your name's on that list." Lana said, eyebrows raised. "My grandmother told me stories. Stories of people like you. Of people like _them_." Lana said, gesturing to the door.

"Then why did you play so doe-eyed bambie with Derek?" She narrowed her eyes at Lana, as if she was so horrid she could barely stand to look at her. "Why don't you go back in there and tell him you knew who I was and who they were since the moment you walked in the door and see how long it takes him to throw you out." She snarled.

"I don't know what your problem with me is, but I advise you drop it. I'm not here to hurt you, but I want answers. Why were you in my dreams?" Lana questioned, looking at Lydia. Studying her for any answers she could get.

"Because you're a BANSHEE!" Lydia yelled like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "That's why you were in my dreams, too."

"So the fact that I'm a 'banshee' explains everything? Because I don't understand any of this." Lana said. But Lydia was glancing back at the door.

"They're going to start to wonder. You're going to go back in there and tell them it was all just a joke, and that you're really a long-lost friend of mine and we just wanted to play a prank on them." Lydia demanded. And so Lana did what she was told.

Stiles sat on his bed, and Malia sat next to him. He had told her what had happened with the Lana girl today. "And you just let it go? You don't think they lied, do you?" Malia said worriedly.

"Well I didn't until now. But now I'm not so sure." Stiles said. Malia took his hand in hers and leaned toward him.

"I'm sure they didn't lie. Why would Lydia lie to us like that?" Malia said, meaning for her words to be comforting, but they came out making Stiles paranoid. Surely there was a good reason if she was lying, right? He couldn't bear the fact of Lydia lying to him. Then there was the fact of how vicious she had been toward Lana. She almost seemed… _jealous._

Malia kissed his temple. "It'll be okay, Stiles. You worry too much."

"I know…" he sighed. "It's a social anxiety thing." Stiles said quietly, thinking of all the times he had used those words as an excuse for the things he was really feeling, and to disguise the reasons he worried so much, and why he cared so much, and how he hated parties because he was always the wallflower. Sure, he really did have extreme social anxiety, but nowadays, it had become more of an excuse from having to explain the way he was feeling to Malia… or anyone really.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

"Do you want to know for sure if you are a banshee or not?" Lydia asked, with less hate than before. She looked at Lana expectantly, as if expecting her to spontaneously combust.

"I think so," Lana said. "But I don't think I am."

"Ever the optimist, are we?" Lydia muttered sarcastically under her breath. They were in an empty white room in Lydia's boathouse. The only thing in the room was a desk and chair, and a record player. Lydia kneeled in front of the record player and began to play the disk. She stood up and came to stand next to Lana as she watched the wall expectantly.

Suddenly, voices came from everywhere. They whispered things of death, despair, mourning, sorrow. The voices seemed to come from inside Lana's head. She wanted it to go away; there were too many whispers to make sense of it all. She looked to the wall where Lydia's eyes had been fixated, trying to block the voices from her mind long enough to focus, which was near impossible to do.

On the wall where Lydia was staring, there were grooves and dents moving there, forming faces out of the walls. Their mouths moved to the words, as if the walls were literally whispering the words straight to Lana. Then they were gone.

Lana looked to see that Lydia had turned off the record. "Believe me now?" Lydia said. "To anyone who's not a banshee, there is absolutely nothing on that tape. But to us…?" Lydia left the rest for Lana to figure out on her own.

"I'm a banshee…?" Lana trailed off, looking to Lydia for some explanation.

"Ah. Finally she gets it!" Lydia said sarcastically. "That's probably why your grandmother told you all those stories." This time, she seemed sincere, like she truly wanted to help Lana.

Derek looked at Braeden as she loaded her gun.

"Where are you going?" He asked worriedly. Braeden laughed and looked at him.

"Don't be clingy. I still have a job,_ remember_?" She laughed. "Kate's still out there."

"Can't you just leave her to Argent? They are brother and sister." Derek whined. He hated the fact that Braeden was hunting Kate, even though he knew Braeden was strong enough to handle her.

"That's hardly fair. The man has enough on his plate, don't you think?" She said, and at the slightest mention of Allison, the room fell silent. They still weren't over Allison, and all the knotted up feelings that came from the thought of her.

"Derek, I have to find Kate. Before, this was merely a job. But now…? It's _personal_." Braedon growled, and Derek looked at her, thinking of how devastatingly beautiful she was when she was determined. She was strong, he was smart enough to know as much. If it wasn't for the fact that he had supernatural powers, she could beat him in a fight easily. It was one of the many reasons he admired her so much. That, and the fact that she was the only girl he had ever dated that hadn't turned out to be a psychopath.

"Please tell me this is some twisted joke that you guys are playing on me because I have been so stressed lately and need a good laugh?" Sheriff Stilinski begged, hanging his head in his hands. He had been so busy lately; he'd barely had time to see his son at all. Stiles was the kind of hyperactive kid who needed to be monitored for his impulsiveness and want to save everyone, not bothering to think about how he was risking his own life in the process. _Guess he inherited that from his dad_, Sheriff Stilinski thought.

"You know I wish I was, boss. I want these murders to end just as much as you do." Deputy Parrish said, exasperated himself. He had been at the station just as much, if not more than sheriff Stilinski all week. "But I'm not. Her name was Anna-Grace Duncan. She was 15."

"Was she a…. was she like Scott?" Sheriff Stilinski said worriedly. He always had to ask, now that he knew. It was a habit. Part of him hated that Stiles was a part of that world now, part of him was glad. He thought it helped Stiles. He fit in better, and had friends that truly cared for him, and people other than Scott in his life.

"I'm not sure. Should I call Deaton?" Parrish said, pointing to the phone on the Sheriff's desk. But the Sheriff shook his head.

"Why don't you go on home, Parrish? Get some rest. I'll call Deaton tomorrow. I know you're running on your last limb, and so am I. Let's just take the night off." He knew he shouldn't. He knew he should be glued to his desk until the murders were solved and the dead pool was gone, but if he sat in that station for another minute, he would go insane, or collapse from exhaustion, whichever came first.

"Are you sure, Sheriff?" Parrish said, eyebrows raised.

"No. I'm not sure about anything." Deputy Parrish didn't know if he was talking about the murders or something else. Parrish didn't know what to say, so he said nothing at all.

Argent hung back in the shadows, watching. He was listening, hearing the sounds of Berserkers, and their heavy breathing. The air down here in the cellars was musty, and it smelled horrible, but that was the least of his worries.

"Argent is looking for you. He's going to find you, Kate." A voice came from deeper in the sewers. It was familiar. He knew the voice, but not who it belonged to.

"Please. I was always the stronger hunter, Peter. He was weak. He let Allison convince him cowardice was to be praised. He let the ones we were hunting be his friends and even date his daughter." Argent still cringed at the mention of Allison. He couldn't ever forget; he never wanted to. But Kate was wrong. She hadn't made him weak, she made him stronger. She made him realize what he was doing was wrong, that the wolves were people, too. But something about what she had said stuck with him. Peter. Peter_ Hale_? Wasn't he claiming to be the good guy? Wasn't he with Scott and Derek just the other day, claiming to help them? _I guess old habits die hard_, Argent thought to himself.

"I wouldn't underestimate him. That big head of yours will be your downfall, darling," said another voice. This one wasn't as familiar to Argent.

"You're preaching to the choir, Jackson." Kate purred._ Jackson_? Argent jumped, startled to hear the name. His boot scuffed the concrete for a millisecond, and the noise caused every berserker in the place to jerk their heads up and search for the source. Argent swore under his breath and pressed his back against the wall, praying they wouldn't see him as he slowly pulled his gun from his back pocket.

Kate raised her nose and sniffed the air. A big, over-confident smirk spread across her face. "We have guests, gentlemen." She let out a tinkling laugh and began skipping to where Argent lurked in the darkness.

"Looking for me?" Someone said from behind Kate. She jerked her head around lightning fast. She wasn't used to not noticing these things, like when someone was watching her.

"Seriously? You're here? Again? You're so predictable, Kate." Braeden growled with a nasty laugh. She raised her gun and pointed it into Kate's temple. Kate's jaw muscle flickered and everyone else stared in shock. While their attention was diverted, Argent stepped out of the shadows lighting quick and pressed the barrel of the gun into the back of Jackson's head.

"You brought brother dearest? I thought you hunted alone." Kate snarled. She could tell she was in a compromising situation and she was trying to do what Kate does best. Talk her way out of things. But Braedon wasn't having any of it.

"Either you shut up or the bullet goes through your brain." Braedon said maliciously. Argent was surprised. She seemed so dainty and beautiful, like a pageant queen, but she was tougher than any of the men he had hunted with before. He admired her for it.

"Now, I'll give you one chance to answer this question. What. Did. You. Do. With. Isaac. Lahey." Braedon growled.


End file.
